Torrent
by arienperry
Summary: Toshiro Hitsugaya has a distorted sense of reality. He swims in denial about his eating disorder and endures the haunting nightmares of his mother's suicide. Upon joining the Karakura Swim & Dive team he meets the team's captain and lifeguard Ichigo Kurosaki. Can Ichigo prove that Toshiro's life is worth saving? Or will he be blasted apart by his torrent of self hate.
1. Torrent

**Here's my first Bleach fanfic! I hope you enjoy! I just really had to write one and i love torturing my characters.. And Shiro is so torturable.. Hehe. Review if you'd like! Xo ~arien**

* * *

"_Just one more bite Toshiro."_

He dropped his fork abruptly, the unused metal scraping harshly against the ceramic plate. His father's words tore through him. Those four words stood out against the blackness of his mind like a billboard or neon lettering. He couldn't eat anymore. He just _couldn't._ He promised his mother he wouldn't overeat and become fat; he promised that he would make her proud.

"I'm full." He stated coldly. It was no use, like always his father had to be so damn stubborn.

"But Toshiro," His dad gave a warm smile. "You've barely eaten a thing. You can't keep giving your food to Hyorinmaru, he'll get fat."

_Better him than me. _Toshiro stared at the blue-striped tabby with disgust. He was lounging haphazardly on the couch. Hyorinmaru was so lazy; he needs to let him out more.

"Toshiro."

He turned his head at his father's suddenly serious tone.

"Yeah?"

"You need to eat. That's an order."

Toshiro blinked and stared down at his meal. He was having cooked duck with a side of fried rice. The only thing that was appetizing about the meal was the water. Water was healthy, it helped you get into shape and boost your immune system.

"I told you I'm not hungry. I had a snack earlier."

That was a lie. Toshiro couldn't think of the last time he'd eaten a full meal. He had a few slices of bread a few days back but that was about it. It's not like he hasn't eaten since then, he had a few crackers and nibbled on cheese every now and again. He just wasn't much of an eater. His dad was always teasing him about his height. He'd say "If you don't eat your vegetables you won't grow up to be big and strong." Toshiro would always scowl at him. He wasn't four. He turned thirteen in December.

"Toshiro, high school starts in two days. And since you skipped a few grades you're already going to be much smaller than everyone in your class. If you walk in there looking like a skeleton you're bound to get made fun of." He stabbed a piece of duck and stuffed it into his mouth.

Toshiro slanted his ultramarine eyes at his father. "You know I don't care what other people's opinions are, and frankly, it's none of my business. I'm there to get an education, not get people to fall in love with me."

His dad raised an eyebrow but continued on. He was growing into such a bratty teenager. He smiled. It _was_ normal to be concerned about body image at this age; he assumed it was just a phase. Toshiro was strong and he knew that. He just didn't know why he was eating so _little_. He would understand a diet, but it seemed his boy was going on one calorie a day.

Toshiro kept telling lies today. He would kill himself before he admitted it, but he was very conscious of other people's impressions of him. Hell that was the damn root of all his problems. He liked to make people happy.

He wasn't very good at it.

Toshiro shook the depressing thoughts away and pushed his chair out. Before he could get up his father interrupted him.

"Not so fast young man. You can't leave until you've eaten everything on your plate."

He blinked. Was he crazy? He'd never made him eat before…

"It's okay dad, I'm really not hungry-"

"Nope. You start school tomorrow; I don't want you to look like we can't afford to feed you."

He glared at his dad for what seemed like hours. His expression didn't falter. He didn't know why he was so concerned; he'll have an energy bar or something in the morning. He took a deep breath.

"Really dad, I'm fine. I have a lot of packing to do for tomorrow and I'd like to get a head start."

His father turned his head as if to get a better look at himself. He watched his dad's eyes rake him up and down.

"Please." It came out almost as a whisper, he was pleading. He didn't have time for this now.

His father sighed, "Fine. But you have to finish your duck."

"But dad!" Toshiro whined. He really needed to start acting his age.

"No buts. You really are looking skinny, Toshiro."

His dad looked worried. He didn't like seeing him worried. He bit his lip and clenched his fists under the table. He could do it this once. A few little bites wouldn't hurt. Duck wasn't even that fatty, right?

He picked up his forked and speared a few pieces of meat at once. He brought the fork to his mouth and held it there. It looked disgusting, toxic. He didn't want to be near it. His stomach cringed just by looking at it.

"I'm waiting."

He glanced at his dad out of the corner of his eye. He swallowed a lump in his throat. He already felt full. His hand started shaking. He couldn't eat it, it was gross. He'll get sick. He'll get fat. He'll get _fat_.

Toshiro closed his eyes and all at once he shoved the chunky substance into his mouth. He gagged. It tasted sticky, hot. It wasn't appetizing at all. The smell of cooked meat filled his nose. He wanted to throw up, but he pushed down his fear and swallowed. Everything stopped at once. Time froze. It was just him and his thoughts. He broke his promise, he felt dirty, repulsive. He needed a shower.

"Umm… I really didn't think it was that bad… I guess I won't make it again." His dad let out a string of nervous laughter.

Toshiro was still shaking. He felt hot; cold sweat was covering his forehead. He was gonna die, that's what it felt like at that moment. He made his voice as stable as he could.

"Can I be excused now?"

His father nodded silently and Toshiro disappeared down the hall.

He climbed the stairs quickly and disappeared into the bathroom. Once inside he locked the door and flicked the light on. He had to blink a few times to get himself adjusted to the pale lavender glow. He started at himself in the mirror, his white, silver hair was matted down with sweat; his eyes were hollow and had bags under them. He hadn't been getting much sleep lately, it was probably due to the nightmares he had every night.

His fingers were trembling as he held onto the sink. His knuckles were turning white. He had to get that stuff out of him; he could already feel the meat pool in his stomach.

He eyed his blue toothbrush that was placed in the holder on the edge of the sink. He'd done this before. Actually, it was such a common occurrence that he had bought a couple of disposable toothbrushes and stored them under the sink. He hesitantly picked his toothbrush up. He'd failed, he really had. He didn't plan to need to do this so soon already.

Shaking off his thoughts he brought the toothbrush up to his mouth. Quickly, he shoved the plastic end against the back of his throat.

Toshiro felt the bile coming up rapidly and heaved what little dinner he ate into the once pearly white bowl. It stung, his throat burned. He gagged and coughed heavily, the sounds of his self-induced torture echoing against the bathroom walls.

He choked as his breathing started to even out. He felt more of the vomit start to regurgitate and he steeled himself against the wall. If he puked anymore he felt like he would die. His mouth still felt like it was on fire. He disposed of his toothbrush and reached for a fresh one. He carefully painted the toothpaste and started brushing his teeth.

After a fourth attempt the mint started to overtake the stench in his mouth. He let a relieved breath out and started to undress for a shower.

"Toshiro! Are you ok? I heard you choking!"

"Y-yeah dad I'm fine! Some air just went down the wrong pipe!"

"Alright," he could hear his dad's apprehensiveness, "Just… call me if you need anything."

He heard his father's retreating footsteps and let out another sigh of relief. He came too close to being discovered tonight. He quickly turned on the shower and stepped inside. He felt his body shake with pleasure as the warm spray washed over him. It wiped away the filth and secrets from his body. It took a while for him to relax but within minutes of the therapeutic shower he was already feeling rejuvenated. He forgot all about the dinner incident and focused on getting clean.

After scrubbing himself down he shut off the water and stepped out the shower mat. It was fuzzy and the tufts of carpet squished between his toes. He grabbed a towel and made his way towards his room.

He flicked on the light and stepped in. He raked his eyes around his space and allowed himself to smile a little. The walls were painted an icy blue, along with white carpet. Sea-like furniture and memorabilia was placed along the walls and floor. He had a lamp modeled as a lighthouse shining light on all his necessary school forms. As he walked inside he kicked a plushy pillow embroidered with a black anchor. Toshiro had always enjoyed the beach. He went once as a child. He loved the soft sand underneath his feet, and the salty smell of the ocean. It was like his second home. He'd been asking his dad to take him back whenever he got a school holiday. He always said he'll think about it. He never let go of that hope.

With a creak he opened his wardrobe and pulled out some pajamas. He stepped into soft blue sweatpants and tugged on a simple white t-shirt. With a flop he fell back onto his bed, immediately sighing against the puffy white comforter. He glanced over to his bedside table. He picked up a white and red striped pamphlet that red "Karakura High Swim & Dive Team". Toshiro _had_ to make it in. It was his mother's dying wish. To succeed. He knew the captains and coach would be put off by his age and height but he was an experienced swimmer. He'd been on swim teams ever since grade school. He was a natural.

By the time he finished going over everything about the times to meet after school and all the dues it was nearing eleven pm. Toshiro yawned. He needed to start getting his bedtime back on track after the late nights and mornings of the summer. He shut off his light and wrapped the covers around him. Apparently he was more drained than he thought; he slipped away into unconsciousness in minutes.

* * *

_Toshiro jumped off the bus. It was late afternoon, the bees were buzzing and the sun was shining. It was such a picturesque day. He couldn't wait to get home and show his mother the amazing grade he made on his math exam._

_He walked up to his home and knocked on the door enthusiastically. He couldn't stop smiling today, he was uncharacteristically happy. It was just another grade. _

_Deep down in his mind he knew it wasn't though. His mom was always pestering him about being a stronger person and getting better at academics. He'd never worked so hard for a simple test. From the moment he'd entered third grade he had many homework assignments thrust upon him. Never anything too difficult, he completed them by himself every day. His dad was always away on work and whenever he asked his mother for help she'd always scold him for being too reliant on other people. He was so stupid sometimes. This work was easy, there was no reason to ask for help. _

_He waited a few more minutes and the door never opened. His mom wasn't standing in the foyer with her crisp business suit and briefcase in hand. Tsumetai Hitsugaya was a big-shot lawyer in Tokyo. She worked so hard at her job and Toshiro always admired her for it. _

_He sighed, his breath blowing a strand of snow white hair out of his face. His mother was never this late. He tested the doorknob to see if it was open. To his surprise it was. He stepped tentatively inside. The living room and kitchen were clean, cleaner than this morning. Toshiro could see his reflection in the freshly polished hardwood. He quirked an eyebrow. Are some more of mother's important clients coming over?_

"_Mom! I'm home! I got an amazing score on a test today!"_

_No response. He waited. And waited. It was unlike his mom to not answer when he yelled in the house. Normally she'd scold him for not using his inside voice. She'd probably tell him he was too stupid to remember the rules again. He had to prove her wrong._

_He trekked up the stairs running his hand along the ebony banister. It squeaked under his fingertips. He decided to drop his book bag off in his room before going to his mom's quarters. He gave the door a light shove and threw his bag inside._

_Still. No scolding. _

_He started to worry. Maybe his mother wasn't home. Sometimes she had stuff to do in Tokyo. But she would've gotten a sitter, she never trusted him alone. The sound of coughing filled the air._

_Toshiro froze._

_Coughing? Was someone in the house?_

_What if it wasn't mommy?_

_He started to panic. There could've been burglars in his house and all his yelling would've surely gotten their attention. Why was he so stupid? He slowly crept out of his room, his hands shaking._

_He'd never been so scared before. He didn't know what to do. He just wasn't smart enough. He should've stayed after school to collect his other grades, his mother would've been happier with that anyway. He was just in such a hurry to get home. He was blinded by his excitement. _

_The walls of his house suddenly seemed to expand. The corridors grew large and menacing, as if they were about to swallow him whole. He followed the sound of the spitting towards his mother's room. His eyes widened. What if they were torturing her? Or hurting her?_

_He swallowed his tears back. He needed to be strong, his mother was always complaining about how much of a baby he was. He was about to hyperventilate. He'd always had trouble under pressure. Whenever he was pushed his heart started pumping too much blood and he started to feel lightheaded, but still he gathered his strength and pushed the door open. The door strained and creaked with every shove. He finally swung it against the wall and let out a breath. His mom was there. She was safe._

"_Toshiro?"_

_He blinked. His eyes widened to saucers. _

_When she turned to him her face wasn't the face of his mother, it was the face of a demon. Her cheeks were hollowed out and wrinkled. Her eyes were rimmed red and the iris was shot open. Her suit was still intact but hanging limply off her shoulders. She lost weight. A ton. She gave him a grin._

"_Toshiro, come here." She beckoned him forward. He couldn't say no to his mother. She was his anchor, his lifeline. He stepped forward, baby steps. The hand she held out to him was shaking. Toshiro could even make out each individual bone prodding at her pale skin, as if it was trying to break free. _

"_Y-yes mommy?" Toshiro flinched. He'd been trying to call her 'mother'. Whenever he got scared he regressed to baby names. His mother hated it._

_She frowned but it was gone as soon as it appeared. _

"_You've failed me."_

_What?_

_Toshiro's knees went weak. His mommy couldn't think this. He's tried so hard!_

"_No mommy it's okay!" He reached into his pants pocket. "I made a really good score on this test and I wanted you to see it-"_

_She snatched the test out of his hand and crumpled it. She ripped it into so many pieces. Toshiro couldn't count. With each shred it felt like his heart was being crushed. The pain. It was so intense._

"_It doesn't matter. You were too late."_

_He blinked. "Late? Late for what?"_

_His mother gave another grin. "You ruined me." His mother took a knee and placed a cold hand on his shoulder. Toshiro had always liked the cold; he was more comfortable with it than most kids. He enjoyed winter and Christmas holidays. He loved the snow. But this… Her hand was like dry ice. It burned through his shirt. He'd hope he wouldn't have to get used to it. _

"_I- I'm sorry!" He didn't know what he was saying he just didn't want his mother to be mad at him anymore. He tried so hard. _

_She brought a finger to his cheek and wiped away tears. He hadn't even realized he'd been crying. He was so weak._

"_You failed me, Toshiro. No matter how much I scold you, how much I beat you… You can never stay strong!"_

_He was stunned by his mother's outburst. She seemed to visibly calm down and spoke in a much softer tone. "But that's alright now."_

_Toshiro was confused. "Why?"_

"_Because I have these." She pulled her left hand from behind her back. Shining with the dim light was a multitude of multi colored pills. The colors popped. They looked like candies._

"_Candy? Can I have some?"_

_A loud laugh poured out of his mother's mouth. "Maybe later. I want you to suffer for a while."_

_Suffer?_

_Without warning his mother hacked up a mouthful of blood. It was like a slow motion film. Toshiro could see each sparkling individual drop of crimson blood rocket out from his mother and splatter onto his own face. It was warm. It felt like the blood was breathing. The liquid dripped down and stained his clothing like a poison._

_He was terrified. _

"_M-mom?"_

_Her hand was limp. She fell onto her son. Her lifeless body slammed Toshiro against the floor. He was crying so hard, whether from the shock of his mother not moving or being forced to stare into his mother's soulless face he couldn't tell. What he did know is that was the beginning of hell for him. The rising of the torrent of pain that would forever drown him. _


	2. Blemishes

**Hey guys... Sorry for the long wait! I've been really busy with projects and finals. Real life got in the way. Christmas break is in three days so i should have much more time to write soon! Thank you to everyone who reviewed! That's the most i've gotten on any one chapter! xoxo. So I'm really proud of this chapter, still setting up the scene. You get a different POV! Yay! And some insight on other characters. If you're still reading after the 5 month hiatus God bless you. Haha. Well, i don't want to keep you. Enjoy! xo**

* * *

_Briiiiiiiing!_

What is that? Is someone hurt? Is there murder? Ah, whatever. They'll deal with it.

_Briiiiiiiing!_

Seriously? Who. Is. Fucking. With. Me?

_Briiiiiiiing!_

"WHAT!?"

Ichigo sprung out of his bed with a strangled yell, voice still scratchy from sleep. His honey hued eyes glanced around the room rapidly; already alert. His mint green blanket was crumpled on the floor, and his pillow thrown against the wall. Ichigo scowled at a drool stain on the offending item. Why was his pillow and blanket on the floor and not on his body where they belong? What the hell happened last night? Is he finally going crazy?

_Briiiiiiiing!_

"Mother f-" Ichigo cut himself short and glanced around his room. The piercing noise echoed off the walls lodging in his brain. Ichigo looked all around for the source of the noise, in his closet, around his shelves. He even kicked around the various clothes and trash that littered the carpet; nothing to be found. After a few more intervals of the excessive ringing he started to lose it.

"What is that!?" His voice was finally back. The angered scream broke through his paper thin walls, echoing throughout the rest of the house.

"Ichi? Brother? Are you alright?"

He turned to his now open door and glared at a worried Yuzu. His gaze softened.

"Uh, yeah. I just can't find the source of this noise."

As if on cue the racket continued. His worried sister forgotten for the moment, Ichigo continued to sputter out nonsensical curses as he feverishly darted around the room.

"Um, Ichi?" Yuzu bit her bottom lip, brown eyes following her older brother's manic antics.

"Not now Yuzu, this is starting to drive me insane." Ichigo didn't even spare her a glance; he looked behind his desk to find nothing but broken pencils and dust bunnies. He scowled.

"Ichigo, I think I know what the ringing is."

His ear twitched, "Really? You're not joking?"

Yuzu laughed and darted under his bed. He couldn't believe he forgot to look there. She pulled out an alarm clock designed as a pink frosted cupcake. It had two artificial cherry stems for hands, the big one was pointing at the eight, and the little one at the six. She pressed a button on the side of the "wrapper" to stop the ringing.

"I bought you this at the store the other day! I thought it was so cute!" Yuzu's eyes were shining "I knew you'd been sleeping to the tune of your own radio all break and I wanted to get you back into the swing of things before tomorrow." Her eyes looked downcast, "I didn't mean to disturb you."

Ichigo's gaze softened. He rubbed a hand through his messy orange hair. "It's okay, just got annoyed is all. It was really loud, I guess it works. Thanks."

She smiled, "Your welcome I-"

"ICHIGO! YUZU! WHERE'S BREAKFAST!?"

Ichigo's jaw twitched at the sound of his ever so loving dad's voice. Yuzu laughed. As if on cue Karin appeared, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. She looked amused.

"Dad wants you guys. He's hungry."

Ichigo took the cupcake clock from Yuzu and set it on his desk. "Thanks I hadn't noticed."

* * *

They made their way into the kitchen and were greeted by one Isshin Kurosaki in a wife beater and plaid boxer shorts. He was standing by the stove, arms crossed.

Ichigo avoided his dad's touch as he made his way to the fridge. "You'll get burned if you stand that close to the stove."

"Aw, my little Ichi's worried about me. How sweet." Isshin tried to pinch his cheek, but Ichigo was having none of that. After a bunch of slaps and dodges Ichigo finally got his dad off his case. He frowned as he opened the fridge. White. Spotless. Empty.

"Um, Yuzu, we have no food."

She blushed, "Um, yeah when I went to the market I was so preoccupied in getting that clock that I might have forgotten to get… anything… else."

Karin blinked, "Wait we have no food?" Her feet were propped up on the table.

Ichigo sighed, "If you want to eat a frosted steel clock there is."

Isshin pouted, "But I'm hungry! Ichigo! You go to the store and get food. It is your final adventure before school starts!" He yelled with gusto.

Ichigo rolled his eyes, "Adventure my ass. Shut up Dad." He paused. "Whatever, fine, I'll go." He shut the fridge and stalked up the stairs to his room. He threw open his closet and grabbed a blue hoodie with red sleeves. He supposed the black jeans he slept in last night were clean enough. Ichigo hunted around his room and eventually found and pulled on some shoes.

Glancing around his room he nodded and shut the door.

"Dad! I need money." Ichigo jumped the last two stairs down and waited at the front door.

He heard a groan and reluctantly Isshin stalked up to him, jaw set, fisted his hands in his wallet and pulled out some bills. "I was gonna rent a movie."

"Yeah, cuz' feeding your kids aren't top priority or anything."

He smirked at his father's scowl and started out the front door. Immediately the bright summer sun blinded him. He saw white as he swore and rubbed the backs of his palms against his eyes. When he re-opened them, he saw small fuzzy black spots ever so often in his peripheral vision. The scent of sunburnt flowers and cracked seeds filled his nose. It was a lovely day.

Ichigo hated it.

* * *

Toshiro shot out of bed. His body was drenched with sweat and his forehead felt white-hot. He reached a shaking hand up to his face. With a pale finger, he traced his cheek. It felt rough to the touch. He must've been crying in his sleep again. His breathing was heavy and ragged. He fisted his comforter and brought a handful of blanket to his chest, nails scraping against his heart. He'd had the dream again. Ever since that dark day almost seven years ago, he'd been haunted with horrible nightmares. Most of them were of his mother's death, sometimes of his own. Usually he could handle them; he would wake up and shrug it off, just a dream. But this one was so _vivid_, the stains of his mother's blood so _red_. He could see it all still. Like if he glanced away for too long he would drift back to find himself covered in the russet, coppery liquid.

_Deep breaths Toshiro_.

He had to constantly remind himself. She couldn't hurt him. Well, technically, according to his therapist, she couldn't. But when someone destroys your entire since of being, crushes all your self-esteem and sends you spiraling down into the lion's den, you simply don't _forget_ them. Not to mention she was his _mother._ No, all the wounds that she inflicted. Every word that she used to cut him through stayed. Like an ulcer- pulsating in the depths of his mind, coming out at the worse possible times.

Toshiro's throat was dry. He swallowed a lump in his throat and threw his covers off feverishly. It was too hot; his forehead was slick with sweat. On clumsy feet, he stumbled to the bathroom. Turning on the faucet, he glanced into the mirror. He looked manic. His eyes were a dull blue-gray, his snow white hair frayed and sticking up in all directions. He gripped the sides of the porcelain sink, gulping down air. His heart was still hammering in his chest; he kept seeing flashes of his mother's lifeless face staring down at him with condescension. Toshiro briefly wondered if she was laughing at him from beyond the grave. Her mouth curled into a demented sneer, knowing he could never achieve any type of greatness. It was unnerving.

"Toshi! I want you to run down to the market! I want you to pick out a bunch of food for your first week back!"

His father's shout rang up the stairs and cut through his self-deprecating haze, snapping him back to reality. Did his dad really just ask him to get food? Surely there were more important things than gorging oneself.

"Uh," his voice was scratchy; he tried to take on a stronger tone. "I'm not really hungry…"

He needed to start thinking of better excuses; this one was starting to get stale.

"Toshiro Hitsugaya."

He jumped, not aware that his dad had come up the stairs. His head shot up with a small crack. Wincing at the pain in his neck, and the unusual steel in his dad's voice, he turned around wearily, pawing at his collarbone.

"Ah, what?"

When Toshiro finally focused on his father he was shocked to see the man staring down at him, midnight blue eyes dark, and mouth in a thin line. He never noticed his father's features before. The sharp contours of his face, the short neat white hair, and broad shoulders. It was painstakingly clear Toshiro didn't inherit _any_ of these traits. The white hair was a recessive gene that his parents both shared so he got that from them. He mentally rolled his eyes. He'd been called a freak on more than one occasion because of his hair color. I mean, was it that big of a deal? People dye their hair all the time.

He realized that his dad was still silent, staring. As if he was seeing through what little of Toshiro there was, and into the bigger heart that was heavy, holding him down. He shifted on his feet, he didn't like this feeling of being probed, decoded. As if all of his secrets and blemishes were being revealed.

"Did you need something, dad?" He tried to sound annoyed, but he just didn't have the energy. He should eat a banana. His eye twitched. Bad idea, abort.

"Um, yeah. You're going to the store." His dad stood firm. Where was the father that was worried about Toshiro with gentle awareness from last night? Did something happen in the few short hours to make him aware of his problems? His stomach heaved, butterflies, no; birds were flocking in his chest, talons twisting his intestines into pink, rubbery rope.

"W-Why?" He tried not to stutter, God, he tried. But his mind was filled with dark promises of his father looking at him with disgust. Knowing his son was a failure- had caused the death of his wife.

His eyes softened, turning more of an azure. "I just… You need to eat," the elder Hitsugaya finally settled on, "and if you won't eat my food you'll need to find something you will."

Toshiro swallowed a lump in his throat. Maybe if he went it would throw his dad off his trail. He would buy a few bags of chips, maybe a thing of pancakes, and never eat them. With intense mental preparation he nodded, and took his dad's credit card. It would be fine. He wouldn't even have to eat anything.

His dad smiled, "That's my boy. Now go get ready."

Toshiro's heart thumped. Without realizing, an unconscious half-smile formed at his lips. "Yeah, okay."

* * *

It was nice out. The sun was shining, birds chirping. It was almost unreal.

He shivered. It reminded him of the day he got home from school to find his mom choking down pills. He let out a stuttering breath. It wasn't time to focus on that.

Toshiro had pulled on blue checkered board shorts, and a gray T-shirt hoodie. His Vans crushed gravel underneath, making satisfying crunches. The walk to the supermarket was short. He passed children scarfing down their last bit of summer ice cream, and teens laughing under shaded off trees, empty soda bottles littered around them. His heart ached. He'd never had much of a childhood, no real friends to call his own.

The market started to come into view; many small stands and kiosks were placed outside the main building. The traders would sell everything there from fish to household appliances. He'd gotten a keychain there once, he remembered, but he lost track of it a few years ago. Silently, he weaved in and out through salesmen and customers, listening to the racket of discussed prices and the vain sounds in their voices as they made a sale. The automatic doors slid open, and as he walked into the store a ding was heard overhead. Toshiro shrugged and made his way through aisles. He couldn't just grab a bag of chips and leave; he had to convince his father. He thought about curling up with a magazine at the indoor coffee shop but decided against it. Maybe he would buy a couple things to eat… It couldn't hurt right?

Building up the courage to buy liquids would be easier than solids so he made his way to the drinks aisle. He picked out a liter of milk, as an obvious choice, and can of sweet tea. That wasn't so hard. He closed his eyes. No painful constricting in his stomach, or mind numbing headaches. He could _do _this.

He balanced the drinks in his arms, and walked into the next area. Feeling good he opened his eyes, clear aquamarine focusing on the room in front of him.

And promptly spilled his milk.

Blood. Meat. _Everywhere._ Eyes darting around the room rapidly he took in the sights of severed animal heads and limbs. He dry heaved. Salami hung from the ceiling, swinging dangerously close to his face. He shrieked and stumbled backwards into a glass case. Turning around he was faced with a decapitated boars head, gagged grotesquely with an apple. He opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out. The stench of raw meat was all around him, like a carnivore's perfume.

Toshiro flinched at the sound of a cleaver hitting a cutting board. Blood spurted up onto the butcher as he laughed. Toshiro was shaking, his milk and drink forgotten he slumped to the floor, head leaning against a crate. He was having a panic attack. He couldn't breathe, think, he wasn't aware of anything around him-except meat, pounds and pounds of red, raw, animal flesh. Is it possible to _feel_ yourself turning green? He didn't have time to think of an answer, his head felt heavy, and his eyes sunk shut. The madness that was a bloody red suddenly faded into a cold black.

* * *

Ichigo liked to think of himself as a nice guy. Even when he was fighting with thugs from around the neighborhood, or having to defend himself because some idiot made fun of his hair color or called him "strawberry". He was kind of a loner. He has a small circle of friends, and yeah, he wouldn't trade them for anything in the world, but usually instead of popping bottles in the club with Rangiku, he's usually at home trying to beat his high score on Super Smash Bros.

And that's why when he saw a white haired kid _literally_ having a conniption in the meat aisle, he couldn't just _stand there._

Well, he could of. But that would've been a _major_ dick move. Renji's the dick of the group, thank you very much.

So while every other one of the shoppers of wholesome, friendly, Karakura town stood there gaping with their iPhones recording the hot mess, Ichigo took action.

And by action he meant promptly yelling at every one of them.

He dropped the manga he had been reading, and dashed to the boy's side. Now that he was closer he could really take him in.

What there was of him anyway, he obviously hadn't hit his growth spurt. The boy had spiky white hair, a few stray strands falling in front of his right eye, which was a mesmerizing shade of cerulean, like the waters of the northern sea. He was panicked, he could see it in the flecks of blue and green that swam around his pupil. A light sheen of sweat coated his face and he was trembling. Meat phobia? Is there such a thing? Ichigo didn't have time to think, there were whispers everywhere, quickly evolving into an uproar about the blue-eyed boy. Ichigo could hear every word.

"_What's wrong with him? Is he mental?"_

"_He probably just wants the attention, maybe he's neglected at home."_

"_Aw, I feel sorry for him. He's gonna be so embarrassed."_

"_The chemicals that he used to bleach his hair probably seeped into his brain. Made him all loony."_

"_Hah, yeah, he's probably high already."_

Ichigo clenched his jaw. He's usually good at suppressing his emotions, and he really didn't need to make a scene but what could he say? He was a good guy. And no innocent person was gonna get branded and labeled as the town meth-head if they had a legitimate problem.

He whirled on a lady behind him, phone out recording the whole thing. She was ugly, scraggly black hair, troll nose, the works.

"Hey, lady, don't you have shopping to do?"

She looked aghast, her mouth hung open in an unattractive 'O' shape.

"How dare-"

Ichigo pointed to the fruit stands outside of the store, "There's an apple stand. Why don't you go buy one and shove it up your ass?"

Ichigo grabbed the panicking boy by the hand before she could answer. After giving all the no-life bystanders a glare that could kill; he led him to the in-store coffee shop.

He set blue-eyes down in a chair and watched him. Though the spazzing seemed to have calmed down, the boy was shivering like he was surrounded by ice.

Hot chocolate. That would help. Ichigo rushed to the counter and ordered a medium, getting a small biscuit for himself since he hadn't had breakfast, and dashed back to watch the kid. The shivering seemed to have stopped, but he was sniffling. Though, as far as Ichigo could tell, he hadn't been crying. Whatever, he wasn't the most observant one.

Ichigo placed the hot chocolate in front of the boy and sat down to scarf down biscuit. It was heaven, stuffed with cheese and fluffy. So much better than an alarm clock. Through his chewing he almost missed the kid say something. He swallowed as much as he could and cleared his throat.

"What? Kind of missed that."

Okay, whoa and the kid was glaring at him. And having the weight of those sea colored eyes on Ichigo promptly made him forget what he was doing for a moment. He coughed after a while.

"Why did you do that?" The blue eyes darkened, "I didn't need your help."

"Of course you didn't, you know," Ichigo waved a hand in the air, "Being out of it and all."

"I would've _handled _it." The boy's voice had a stubbornness to it. It reminded Ichigo of himself.

"You were _handling_ it like a fish out of water," Ichigo challenged back, "I don't even need a thank you, just drink your hot chocolate. You're shivering."

The eyes widened, "I am _not_-"

The boy clamped his mouth shut as his body shook. "Coincidence." He said smartly.

Ichigo smirked, "Yeah, alright. I gotta go anyway. My pop's expecting me home soon."

He got up and turned to leave, but as an afterthought, swung back towards the kid, "The names Ichigo by the way."

The boy hesitated, and then let out a defeated puff of air, "Toshiro."

* * *

"Ichigo! My son! What gifts did you bring us from the mart?"

Ichigo swore under his breath as he closed the front door.

Isshin raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, uh," He rubbed a hand on his neck, "I may have gotten sidetracked."

* * *

Toshiro slammed his bedroom door shut with fervor. After avoiding his father's questions as to why he didn't bring home any food he got to escape on the promise he would go tomorrow.

He flopped onto his bed, making the pure white comforter crinkle, and sending a few stray papers flying. He watched them fall, so free, to drift wherever they want. So light, no one could catch them. That's what Toshiro wanted; to be free.

He bit his lip. He showed so much weakness today. And what for? Just because he couldn't stand the thought or smell of meat? Not just meat, any food, and _thing_ that would poison his body, keep him from achieving excellence. Toshiro Hitsugaya was not weak, and he didn't need some "strawberry" to help him sweeten up the sour taste of defeat. In fact, he wasn't gonna binge tonight. He was gonna punish himself for showing such a chink in his armor, such damage. Tonight when the nightmares come, he's gonna welcome them. Indulge in the pain. But on the inside Toshiro knew his nightmares weren't limited to his sleep, he was fighting personal demons every single day of his life.

* * *

**Thank's again for reading! Love you all! ~ari :]**


End file.
